Valentine’s Day Story
Longingly, Rhiannon looked over her shoulder in the direction of the village. When she failed to catch a glimpse of her beloved Dewydd on the treeless hillside, she let her head hang and solemnly observed her tears blending with the raindrops on her face and falling on to her muddied sheepskin boots. She swallowed her pride, wiped her emerald eyes and her nose clean with her woollen coat sleeve, and tried to force the painful event that had taken place only half an hour ago to the back of her mind.
Once in a while, on days like this with that gentle autumn sun and the breeze caressing the leaves on the trees, I am overcome by a sense of melancholic longing. It is then that the chattering of a lone magpie takes me on a trip down memory lane, back to the late 70s in Canberra, Australia. Back to the days with my dog Rover.
Unrest in the world, unrest all around me, unrest in my heart. Situations, things, people turning my world upside down. All of this created by myself. Through my beliefs, my thoughts and my reoccurring drama. They push me under, they ravish my sense of well-being. Their pitch-black thunderclouds cast my world into darkness. Uncertain and utterly unworthy is how I feel.
There was a time in my life when I wanted to end it all. Every day I was haunted by questions: ‘Shall I jump off this bridge at last?’, and ‘What if I hit the accelerator now and chuck the wheel round?’. Fortunately, something deep inside withheld me. Something urged me to carry on.
Does this sound familiar? Despite all of your ideas, you just can’t transform them into something more concrete. You have all of these fantastic dreams, and still you don’t get round to fulfilling them. I know, I’ve been there too, and it wasn’t till about a year ago that I began to experience some serious flow, meaning I’m actually manifesting what I create. This came about because I have faith in my divine guidance. Through this I give my all in everything I do, and I work with what I am given.